Note to Readers!

This is a personal reflection based on my own experiences growing up in a rural village in Telangana. The story highlights the people who cared for me and my family when no formal healthcare infrastructure was nearby. It is not meant to criticize any medical community but to share the human side of healthcare in villages, honor those who provided care in challenging circumstances, and encourage collaboration between traditional practitioners, RMPs, and MBBS-trained doctors for a healthier future for all. I hope this story inspires dialogue, respect, and innovative solutions to bridge gaps in rural healthcare.

Time Reflection: When a Life Saviour Is Called a Quack — My Story

I was born and raised in a small village called Pedda Gudem in the Nalgonda district of Telangana, Bharat. Life in my village 15–20 years ago was very different. Roads were rough, transport was limited, and immediate medical help was almost impossible to find. Yet, amidst those limitations, life moved forward with hope — supported by people who cared more through their actions than their titles.

The Day That Changed Everything

One of my strongest childhood memories is also one of the scariest.
I was around seven or eight years old, playing in the farming fields while my parents worked nearby. Suddenly, a dog bit me. I remember the pain, the fear, and the confusion. But what I remember even more clearly is the panic that followed — because my village had no clinic, no first-aid center, and no trained medical professional.

My parents and neighbors tried their best, but the only hope was to get me to the nearest town, Haliya. It took two to three hours on rough roads and limited transport. That journey felt endless. I held on to hope more than anything else.

Looking back now, I realize how serious that moment truly was — and how lucky I am to be alive.

Healthcare That Happened Without Titles

As I grew older, I began to reflect on my life in the village. That’s when I understood something important: even though we didn’t have MBBS-certified doctors, people still survived and healed because of one group — RMP (Registered Medical Practitioner) doctors.

Even before I was born, my mother was cared for by Dr. Laxma Reddy, RMP, with the support of Mantrasani Mallamma, a traditional birth attendant who helped countless mothers. My mother had a natural delivery — no operation, no hospital, no MBBS doctor. She had the hands and heart of the village healers.

I am alive today because these people existed.

So how should I see them?
As quacks?
As illegal practitioners?
Or as the people who stepped in when no one else was available?

The Man Who Shaped My Understanding of Care

When I think about healthcare, I immediately think of my uncle, Dr. Krishna Reddy, RMP. Growing up, he was the closest person I knew to a doctor — not because of a degree, but because of his dedication, knowledge, and willingness to help.

In the village, no one asked, “Is he MBBS?”
We simply said, “Doctor garu, please come home.”

For me, a doctor was the person who came when I needed help.
A doctor was someone who stayed awake at night if a child had a fever.
A doctor was someone I trusted.

My uncle became that person for countless families. Even as I moved to cities and eventually abroad, he remained my guide. Today, people call it “teleconsultation,” but for me, it is still him — listening to me, understanding me, and giving clarity.

His presence shaped my thinking.
His calm voice shaped my belief in care.
His dedication shaped my dream for a better healthcare system.

My song “Closer to Care” was inspired by him — by the man who taught me what true care means.

When My Perspective Shifted

After I released the song, I called him.
He told me it was one of the most heartfelt moments of his 35+ years in healthcare. But then he gently corrected me:

“Please modify it from Dr. Krishna Reddy to RMP. Krishna Reddy.”

He told me about the rising conflicts surrounding RMP doctors — the accusations of being “quacks” or “illegal practitioners.” He didn’t want his name misunderstood.

That moment hit me deeply.
The man I grew up calling doctor…
The person who treated thousands…
The one who guided me all my life…

He felt the need to defend his identity…!

For me as a child, “doctor” meant the person who treated us — whether they were MBBS, Ayurveda, Unani, or RMP. It was never about qualifications. It was about trust.

But the world works differently now. Standards change. Education grows. And I agree — these things are important.

Yet I cannot ignore the truth of my own life:

I was born because of Dr. Laxma Reddy, RMP.
I survived a dog bite because of Dr. Krishna Reddy, RMP.
I grew up healthy because RMPs were our first responders.

So what do I do with this truth?

Do I Forget Them or Honor Them?

Should I erase the contributions of people like Dr. Krishna Reddy, RMP and Dr. Laxma Reddy, RMP? and Mantrasani Malllamma?
Should I call them quacks? illegal practitioners? First Aid Providers? or Lifesavers?
Should I deny the role they played in shaping rural healthcare?

Or should I honor the reality that they kept entire villages alive when no formal healthcare existed?

I believe we must honor their past contributions while strengthening the future through proper systems and education.

A Thought as a Citizen

I am not an authority or policymaker. I am simply someone who lived this reality.

From my experience, I feel:

• The conflict between MBBS doctors and RMP practitioners should stop.
• Experienced RMPs who supported villages should be acknowledged.
• IMA should work closely with the government to honor experienced RMPs while building the new generation instead of protesting against them.
• Strengthening rural healthcare requires cooperation, not division.

A Hope for the Future: F.A.D — First Aid Doctor

If RMPs were formally trained and certified as F.A.D — First Aid Doctors, they could:

• provide immediate emergency care
• stabilize patients until they reach hospitals
• work safely within a regulated system
• support MBBS doctors rather than compete with them

This approach could reduce confusion and ensure every village has someone trained to respond quickly.

A future where the conflict triangle ends — Government, IMA, and RMPs working together for one goal: healthcare for every corner of Bharat.

In the End, It All Comes Back to Care

My story is real.
My gratitude is real.
And my hope is real.

I believe that care begins not with titles, but with people who show up when we need them the most:

Dr. Krishna Reddy, RMP
Dr. Laxma Reddy, RMP

Mantrasani Mallamma

I feel like calling her Dr. Mallamma — because in the truest sense, she was a doctor to our village.
But Mantrasani Mallamma was a traditional healer, part of a healing culture that existed in Bharat for thousands of years, long before the title “Doctor” or the MBBS education system was even created and formalized by the Britishers back in the in the 1800s, if I am not wrong.

For that reason, keeping her name as Mantrasani Mallamma is not a limitation — it is an honor.

It preserves our roots, our ancient village wisdom, and the respect earned by healers who served families long before formal medical education arrived. She represents a legacy of care that existed when there were no hospitals, no trained doctors, and often not even proper roads.

By keeping her traditional title, I honor the truth that healing in Bharat began long before modern medicine, and people like Mallamma were the backbone of rural life — guiding mothers through childbirth, supporting families, and saving lives with knowledge passed down through generations.

They shaped my life, my song, and my vision for the future of healthcare.

This story is for them.
This hope is for tomorrow.
And this journey — from a small village field to understanding the heart of healthcare — is mine.

What’s your story with Mantrasani / RMP doctors?

Did they ever help you or someone you love?
How do you see them — quacks? illegal practitioners? First Aid Providers? or Lifesavers?

Share your thoughts…!

Your voice matters — because in our history, real healthcare stories didn’t come solely from medical colleges.
They evolved over time, shaped by people like us, living in villages across Bharat.

🌱 Stay tuned with AK and never miss a beat🌾

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